


Behind the Closed Door

by AlexandraElla



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gore, Horror, Kidnapping, Love/Hate, Mild Gore, Mind Games, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraElla/pseuds/AlexandraElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia finds herself trapped in a sick social experiment.<br/>Locked up in a room with a stranger they are forced to do horrifying things to prove that they want to stay alive.<br/>Does this game have room for a winner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

_'The cherries were in season and I could with a good conscience fill my stomach with red sweets. Not even the sudden death of my father-in-law could bring my sense of well-being down. This was my place. My safe haven and -'_

“Lydia, I'm about to leave. Shouldn't you be home by now?” The words caught me by surprise and I inhaled sharply. I let the book in my hands fall and land on the shiny surface of my desk.

“You scared me, Ethan! I've told you a thousand times to knock before you enter my office!” I spun my chair around and glared at the man who had disturbed my peace while reading a brand new novel from a young author.

He raised his hands into the air and grinned. “It isn't my fault that you're so easily frightened.”

I shook my head and looked at the clock which I had nailed to the wall a couple of weeks ago. Yes, Ethan had been right. It was way past my working hours and I suddenly felt very tired. “To answer your question... I just wanted to finish the book tonight so that I can focus solely on writing the review tomorrow.”

I work as a book-reviewer for a major newspaper and that means that I have to read at least one book every week and review it. Sometimes it is easy, but most of the time it is difficult to express a fair opinion on the work of someone else. Writing is their passion and one single negative review can extinguish a dream and a possible career. That's why I choose my words carefully.

Ethan smiled. “You should be more like the rest of us.”

I returned his smile briefly. “You mean ineffective? Arrive late and leave early? Sorry, I can't do that because this job means the world to me.”

“Geez,” Ethan chuckled, “Bet your husband wouldn't be too thrilled with hearing those words! See you tomorrow, Fire-head.” He then exited the room and everything went back to being quiet and peaceful again.

There was only one and a half chapter left of the book I had been reading, so I picked it up and swiftly turned the pages until I found the place where I had been interupted. I have always loved books and their simplicity. I mean, they can take me around the world and back in time for afternoon coffee and I can experience every color of the emotional palette.

*

With the book finished, I had a look at the clock once again. It was almost midnight and I could see nothing but the crescent moon and orange streetlights outside the window of my office. My husband was probably already in bed. Me staying at the office until late night was not an unfamiliar scenario and I knew that he would not be worried. My husband, James, was an uncomplicated man. The kind who wears plaid flanell, watches sports and is happy as long as there are cold beers in the fridge.

I met James when I was 28 and two years, and 20 pounds, later we were married. We have never had the intense and passionate love I always read about in the romantic novels, no, our love is better describes as safe and gentle. And that is lovely in its own special way.

“I should get going,” I mumbled to myself and quickly gathered my things and stuffed them in my purse. My legs were wobbly and stiff from sitting down in the same position all day long, but I managed to take the first difficult steps towards the door of my office.

I took the elevator and then walked outside to face New York by night. To be honest, I prefered the night since the subway stations were abandoned and I could have a couple of seats just for my own space. And most importantly for my thick bottom.

I inhaled the smell of exhaust gas, street food and trash as I strutted down the street. That was when I saw a man kneeling on the ground in an alley. It was not unusal that people got stabbed in New York in the evenings and nights and I felt my heart starting to beat like a hammer. What if he was hurt? Or even dying?

I rushed towards the man who was keeping one hand inside his jacket and had the other hand placed on the ground. His face was turned away from me. “Are you okay? Sir?” I asked and placed a hand on his shoulder.

That was when the man turned his face towards me. Or, what should have been his face.

He was wearing a black mask and I could see in slow-motion how he pulled a bat out of his open jacket. I gasped and turned around to run away, but it was too late.

The first time the bat hit me it collided with my shin. The second time with my thigh. I was forced to lay down on the cold ground since the pain grew to intolerable proportions. My mouth was open and I started to scream at the top of my lungs for help.

“Help! He-”

I felt fingers around my neck. Squeezing tighter and tighter... Then everything went black.


	2. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia wakes up in an unfamiliar room and has to investigate where she is and why.

Pain.

My legs were aching and the pain thumped as if a tool which rhythmically hit my nerves had been operated into my body. Other than that everything felt okay. I knew that I was lying on a bed since the mattress had molded itself to my shape and together with the cover formed a soft cocoon.

The man wearing the mask from yesterday must have been a bad dream. A nightmare. It was not real and now I was awake in the safety of my own bed. Or? The pain I felt was very real and nauseousness suddenly filled my stomach.

I reached to my left and felt a lump. Heat radiated from the lump and I understood that it was human skin.

“James?” I murmured and my eyes fluttered open. The room I was in was dark but I could clearly see that it was not my own room. This was not my own bed. Panic struck me and I turned my head to the left and saw someone sleeping on the bed beside me. It was too dark for me to be able to pick up on any facial features, but I knew from the beard and the dark hair that the man was not my husband. In fact, I had never seen the man before.

I quickly turned my head back straight again and my breathing became shallow. Why had this happened to me? And what had exactly happened?

I scanned the room and my eyes soon got used to the darkness. It was a square room with brick walls, a bed, curtains draped over one wall of the room and one lamp – which I did not dare to turn on. The most odd thing was that there were no windows, but to my delight there was a door right beside the bed. To know that there was a way out of the cubical room spread a certain degree of hope and relaxation through my body.

I removed the fluffy cover from my body and carefully, not to wake the foreign man up, crawled out of bed. It was difficult to stand on my beaten legs but I managed to hobble over to the door by using my arms to stabilize the knee of the leg which had been hit across the thigh. I grabbed the doorknob and realized that the door was locked. A new wave of panic flooded through my system and I started yanking the knob in every possible direction. Suddenly I heard sheets rustling and a groan.

“Hello?” a voice sounded. It was weak and wheezy.

I was paralyzed. The man was awake and possibly dangerous. I knew that he was the one who had attacked me and brought me to this place – and now I had no way of escaping him. He had the power, unless I did something drastic.

I limped over to his side the bed and could see the man clearer. He could also see me and his eyes were filled with confusion. His nose had an unnatural color and there was dried blood underneath it. Something was not right.

“Wha-” I did not let the man finish his sentence before I grabbed his neck with both of my cramping hands and squeezed it. I had the upper hand for a second or two before he yanked my hands away with his own. The man was way stronger than me, even if he looked quite scrawny, and I started praying for my life.

“Are you crazy?!” he spat and rubbed the skin of his neck where my hands had been seconds ago. I moved away from the bed and backed up against a corner.

“Don't kill me, please!” I pleaded, “I'll do anything.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The man slowly sat up and used the wall behind him as a backrest. He was not wearing anything on his upped body and I started feeling sick. Had he taken sexual advantage of me when I was unconscious?

“Please, let me go! I have a husband and a family.”

The man's eyes widened. “Where am I?”

I did not understand a thing. “You should know since it was you that attacked me and brought me here!”

The man's mouth now hung slightly open and he stared at me in disbelief. “What? The last thing I remember is that someone hit my head with something hard... Wasn't that you?”

I was on my way of calling the man a liar and ask him to let me go once again when I felt a buzzing on my side. I felt the fabric of the curtain, which covered an entire wall, brush against the skin of my hand and something in the deep and dark places of my brain told me to examine it further. I started moving the heavy fabric away and felt the blood freezing to ice in my vessels as I saw what had been hidden.

There were two big television screens. Both of them showed a room similar to the one me and the man was in, but it was something that made me cringe... The screens showed two people in each room - a man and a woman. My eyes were immediately drawn to a woman on the right screen who was lying spread out on the bed. She was naked and had small cuts all over her body.

The man was the one to break the silence and put the thoughts I had in my mind out in words. “What the fuck?”

Please, let this be a nightmare. A horrible, terrifying nightmare.


End file.
